Unhinged
by strutzNgutz
Summary: A Cars horror fic I wrote for Halloween. Rated M for gore and violence, so if it bothers you, do not read. My cars I write about are cybernetic organisms. They are mechanical AND organic, which explains the tongue and the eyes, etc. You need to know this if you want the story to make sense. This is a short story, so it will only come in a few parts.
1. Part 1

Christophe was a remarkable surgeon. You could ask him any question about the vehicle body, mechanical or organic, and he'd know the answer. He saved lives day by day, and I, Adolphe, had been lucky enough to call myself his intern. For the past two months Chris had shown me some of his tricks and saved lives before my eyes. I always wonder what had pushed him to follow this way of life. For me, I just wanted to help cars. Chris, however, would probably have a better answer. I can see it in his eyes every time he's jolting someone back to life. I can see it when he cuts a baby's umbilical cord and proudly gives it off to its mother. There is definitely something that propelled him into wanting to do this, only he's never answered me when I asked. I finally gave up on questioning him, and although I do not know the reason Chris is so good at what he does, I still look up to him with undying determination. I want to be him. I want his skill; his feeling of triumph when the heart rate monitor begins beeping again. I want that. Though, there is one bad quality inside him that I do not wish to inherit, and that is what he turns into when he loses a patient.

"C-Chris, that's it. She's gone," I said, trying hard to keep my voice at a down low, not wanting to push Chris into a deeper torment. He has spent the last four hours performing a heart transplant on a young bachelorette. The operation had been going strong until a few minutes ago. I watched as Chris tried everything he could possibly do. I watched him drown in his own guilt, as if he knew already that he was going to lose her, even before her pulse had ceased. I wish I could have done something. Anything. But I knew if Chris couldn't, what in God's name could I have done?

We sat there minutes after we lost her, completely still, no sound except for the stinging beep of the heart monitor. Chris growls to himself, grabbing onto the cord and yanking it out of the wall. All became silent. I could hear Chris exhaling against his face mask, his breaths short and staggered. He looked away from the woman, his pupils shrinking more with each broken breath he took. I had to rip my eyes away from him, not wanting to set off his trapped resentment. Instead I glanced over to the woman's body. She lay there, a static figure, atop the operating table, blood spread among her sheets, the white fabric to be stained with her forever.

Chris finally speaks up, "I can hear her."

My eyes shift over to him. He continues to stare down at her, his lips slightly apart.

"I can hear her wedding vows. I can see how happy she is. Her eyes behind the veil..," Chris continues, his voice diverse. There is no zest; no triumph. He stands as lifeless as the body before him.

I swallow hard and scuff a tire across the tiles on the floor, "Chris, I…"

He cut me off before I could continue, "I will return in a moment." His reverse lights flicker on, their reflection textured and distorted against the old plaster of the wall, "I must break the news to her fiancée."

With a tangled gulp I turn back to the woman. Never had I been alone with a dead body before. I try not to look at her, but every second or so I catch myself.

I take a deep breath and then realize that if I wanted to be anything like Chris, I need to get used to this sort of thing. I slowly approach her, my RPMs beginning to heighten with the intensity of my nerves. Her eyes are closed, thankfully. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to see the deterioration of their vibrancy; the rotting of her emotion. I didn't want to see that there was no one behind them anymore. I stopped in front of her, dipping my hood, "A shame. A wonderful man you have left behind.."

"What are you doing?" a voice erupts from behind me causing me to jolt backward into the table of operating tools. A few of them fall from the table, splattering small drops of remaining blood across the tiling on the floor, staining the grout between them a deep red.

I turn to the owner of the voice, my breathing a bit heavy, to see the familiar Peugeot 406, "O-Oh, Chris…I was just getting used to being alone around dead bodies…yeah. Being an intern and all-," I look to Chris's eyes. They aren't regular at all. The usual blue in his iris now contains unnatural, twisted streaks of green that I have never seen before. They build up from the center of his iris, coating the outer rim of his pupils. His stare solidifies me. The man I looked up to; the man I wanted to be. Right now I actually feel terrified of him.

He chuckles strangely, an eerie grin stretching across his bumper, "Hm, after tonight you'll have seen enough of them."

_Chris is smiling. Is he alright?_

I swallow over a knot in my throat, forcing myself to speak, "W-what do you mean, Sir?"

He doesn't answer me right away, and instead rolls over to the corpse. His peculiar smile fades as he covers her face with the bloodied cloth, "Her fiancée does not want to see her. You and I will be taking a trip to the morgue tonight. That's one less body sitting here rotting away."

I could not understand why he'd say such a thing. Yeah, Chris became a little unstable every time he lost a patient, but this behavior was absolutely over the top. His eyes. The tone of his voice. I had to do something about it, but what?

"Sir, her death wasn't your fault. You tried your best."

Chris doesn't respond.

After minutes of silence I was unable to take it anymore. My ears ring with desperation for a sound. I stamp a front tire to ease the tension. Chris begins chuckling again.

_What is wrong with him?_

The 406 finally turns to me again, his eyes even more paralyzing than before. He begins to roll toward the hallway, "Have a nurse help you get her onto an ambulance. I'll be outside the lobby. Waiting."


	2. Part 2

Dense fog enshrouded the hospital, drifting visibly through the dim security lighting of the lobby; fluorescent blue bulbs that flickered every few seconds. Christophe idled quietly outside the place, the blue lighting contrasting the sharp curves of his body against the nothingness behind him. The hospital itself was obscured by condensed woodland, only one road leading outbound to society. The place is extremely quiet for a hospital, more so because a storm had just passed through, leaving the area humid and vacant.

Christophe puffed away at a cigarette, his expression blank. Every so often he would glance over at the hospital entrance: Rotating doors that were currently under construction. They are wrapped up in yellow caution tape, wielding an orange sign, soggy from the rain, which stated where to go as a detour.

The sound of approaching tires pulls Christophe from his trance. Adolphe pulls over to him, parking at his side, "She is on the ambulance and ready to go-"

Christophe interrupts Adolphe, aggressively shaking his hood with a growl, "She? _She_ is no longer here. I prefer you say 'it', or 'the body'. Hell, why not the _'rotting corpse'_?" He flings his cigarette at the ground, squishing it violently with a front wheel.

Adolphe's eyes widen, caught off guard by Christophe's nasty reaction, "O-okay, sir. I will keep that in mind."

Christophe turns away, tail lights fading into the fog as he rolls onto the single dirt road where the ambulance is sitting and waiting for them. She dips her hood to Christophe, "The morgue with no path, correct?"

Christophe nods and takes the lead, Adolphe bringing up the rear.

The morgue is only a few miles deep into the woods, but the silence between all of the vehicles made the drive seem so much longer, not to mention it had begun to drizzle again. The fog became so dense that Adolphe had to turn his high beams on. Soon, the never-ending trees begin to disperse and a building comes into view. Adolphe's brake lights come on, feeling more heat waft up from his grille and over his hood.

The place didn't seem habitable at all. Its boarded up windows, missing bricks and weathered foundation make it look like it's straight out of a horror movie. There are two metal doors at the front, with no windows and a large padlock around both handles. The doors are only big enough for one car to fit through at a time.

Adolphe gulps, "I-it looks abandoned."

"Of course it does," Christophe scoffs. "Did you think they were going to come and greet us with rainbow flowers and cocoa?"

"W-well, no, but-"

Christophe cuts Adolphe off again, "Get the body off of the ambulance while I open the morgue door."

The intern does as he is told, and the ambulance leaves once the stretcher is pulled from her box, unable to fit through the entrance doors even if she wanted to. Christophe removes the padlock and turns off his headlights, quickly rolling forward into the darkness of the morgue.

Adolphe jumps back, calling out, "Now, why would you turn off your lights?"

There is no response.

Adolphe freezes beside the stretcher, his breathing becoming heavy. He looks after where Christophe had disappeared, shining his headlights inside. The hallway ahead is narrow, meant for only one car to be able to drive down. There are two rooms a few meters ahead, positioned across from each other. Beyond the rooms is unknown. The silence becomes loud, pricking at Adolphe's nerves, and the rain falls harder. He finally decides to slowly push the stretcher inside.

The smell of rust and decaying flesh instantly hits his grille. Adolphe gags on it, bringing a wheel up to cover his mouth. He feels tears swelling up, burning at his eyes.

"C-Chris?" he mutters, muffled behind his own wheel, rpm's racing, "T-this isn't funny. Quit messing with me."

He still gets no response, and so he slowly continues forward, eyes wide and on his obscure surroundings. Suddenly he hears tires rolling up behind him. He goes to turn toward the noise, but instead finds himself slamming against the concrete floor, a jolt of pain stinging at his roof and surging through his entire frame. The hit renders his vision blurry, only able to focus on a small source of light on the floor in front of him: his cell phone. It must have dropped from his wheel well during the fall. He reaches out for it only for his wheel to be stepped on by another. A grisly, unknown voice erupts at his side, "Oh, no. You're too sick to make a phone call."

It was the last thing he heard before taking another blow to the roof. Then there was nothing but blackness.

Adolphe's eyes flicker open, a bright white light shining right in his eyes. He blindly whimpers and tries to move his wheels, but they won't budge. He feels a flat, metal surface underneath his undercarriage, like an operating table. It goes silent all except the quiet buzzing of the light bulb in his face. He squints at it, panting hoarsely, "C-Chris!"

There is the squeaky sound of a door opening up behind him and a set of tires rolling over broken glass and tiles. Adolphe freezes, lowering his voice, "C-Chris?"

A voice did answer, but it didn't sound familiar. It sounds like it's reading off of a paper, "Adolphe Rousseau. Four-door male; White paint."

"Un-strap me, p-please," Adolphe begs, "H-how do you know my name?" He feels sweat droplets form at the back of his side-view mirrors.

The voice ignores his plea, continuing to read, "He's suffered severe damage to the brain. Death upon the strike."

"Hello?" Adolphe retorts. He tries to focus on the man, but the light in his eyes continues to obstruct his vision.

There is the sound of something large being set down on a counter, and it was then that Adolphe realizes the stranger wasn't talking directly to him. The realization throws him into sudden panic, "No! No! I am alive! Can't you see that? The autopsy is to be done on the woman we brought! _Not_ me!"

There is no response from the stranger; only the fiddling of tools at Adolphe's side. He suddenly feels the man's wheel touch his roof and he jolts in terror, "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME! The woman is on the stretcher! You're to do work on _her_!"

"A shame," utters the voice as it continues to ignore Adolphe's cries. There is the soft sound of pen to paper before it speaks again, "A beautiful man you left behind."

Adolphe freezes when he hears the familiar remark. In desperation he attempts to start his engine, but there is no spark. He gasps in disbelief. Never has he been unable to start before, "HELP! HELP ME!" His heart beats wildly at the center of his undercarriage, his entire body throbbing with its excruciating thumps.

The voice gets closer to him; the most simple of utters shooting tremors throughout Adolphe's metal, "Now to see what exactly happened to you."

Adolphe's shrieking is drowned out by the agonizing drone of an electric saw. His heartbeat gets faster, its pace so severe that he can feel it throbbing at the back of his mirrors, tugging at his sanity. He tries to start his engine again. There's still no spark. The stranger presses the saw to Adolphe's roof, and the buzz struggles as it begins to rip into his metal. Adolphe screeches in agony when he feels the blade hit his flesh underneath, his shrieks foiling into hoarse squealing as it continues to cut deeper. Then it goes silent. He hears nothing but himself breathing, struggling to stay alive; feeling nothing but the excruciating pain at the top of his roof; how hot it was up there.

Then he feels cold enter his wound. He snivels weakly, tears forming at the corners of his windshield, dripping down his fenders. There is some prodding at the wound before he feels his metal being ripped back, exposing more of the flesh. He grits his teeth and pants, long past the pain and into the numb, "H-help…"

The light in front of him begins to turn a vibrant red, his own blood dripping down his face and staining his vision. He blinks, mouth hanging open, throat arid from the screaming. He feels more metal being ripped away, and he tries focusing on his heartbeat instead, how it palpitates and then steadies itself. He stares at that bright light as if it were his guardian angel, watching it as it begins to fade slowly, his pain dissipating. Soon all he can hear is his heartbeat, and that too soon fades out into silence.


	3. Part 3

It is late evening on a Friday in Le Bonnet, France, a small town in which didn't have much to offer. In addition to the four local stores and two farms, there are only ten residential homes, one owned by Valerie Coupe and her husband.

Valerie idles in her living room with her eyes on the television screen. She taps her wheel impatiently as she skims through the channels. The thick curvature of her body, along with her diamond shaped headlights, immediately gives her away as a Renault Laguna Coupe; the 2004 model. Her paint glistens a metallic silver. She lets out a disgruntled sigh and tilts on the right side of her suspension, "Celine! Are you ready yet?"

A female voice echoes from the nearby bathroom, "Just a moment, Valerie. Patience is a virtue."

Valerie rolls her eyes, as if this were something her best friend had did often. The Renault continues to switch the channels on the television, hardly even paying attention to it now.

"Alright," Celine says, rolling into the living room. She's a 2004 Citroen C4 Coupe. Her light blue paint sparkled with the vibrancy of a recently done wax, "How do I look?"

Valerie raises a lid, smirks, and replies jokingly, "Like a hooker."

Celine giggles lightly, turning to a mirror on the wall, "Oh, you're just jealous because your pregnant belly isn't going to allow you to have any fun tonight."

Valerie stands a little higher on her suspension, her belly showing now. Her doors are swollen, but her pregnancy showed a lot more underneath. It's obvious she was close to seven months, "I am not jealous! I am just angry with myself for allowing you to push me, yet again, into going with you." She's about to turn off the television when something catches her eye. Her jaw drops, reading aloud, "One found dead. One missing."

Celine ignores Valerie's citation, already heading for the front door, "Come on, Baby Mama."

"No, no. Wait," Valerie moves closer to the television, "There was a murder."

"Probably somewhere near Paris as usual," Celine responds apathetically, "Nothing ever happens around here. No worries."

Valerie continues to read the red text on the screen, "A surgeon by the name of Christophe Peugeot, and his intern, Adolphe Rousseau, left Saint Pont Hospital on Monday evening to escort the body of a patient to a nearby morgue. After no return the police were sent to investigate. They discovered Adolphe inside the morgue, tied to a table, dead, his roof torn apart. Christophe has yet to be found. We ask all residents nearby to contact emergency services if there is any sighting of him. A photo will be distributed through the network when we return."

The channel flickers over to its commercials.

"Oh, come on, Val," Celine takes the remote and turns off the television, "This is why you're always so worked up. The news over-dramatizes everything! You've had a very stressful week. Let's go out and have fun, hmm?"

"Don't you think we should at least take a look at the photo? What if we see the missing car?" Valerie tries to take the remote back from Celine, but Celine doesn't give it up.

"Val, seriously. Come on," Celine tugs at her friend's tire, "We're just going to go out a few hours. We'll have a drink or two- Well, _I'll_ have a drink or two; We'll dance a little bit, maybe meet some new friends, and then come home safe and sound, okay? Saint Pont hospital isn't even around here."

Valerie pulls some air through her grille, giving in, "Alright, fine. You're right, but I am not staying out for more than three hours, you hear?"

Celine turns away and gets the front door, giggling as she rolls out into the night, "Sure thiiiiing, Baby Mama."

The town that the girls are to travel to is only a few miles west of their hometown, but it required driving through remote farmland and on dirt roads. It is pitch dark with the exception of the girls' headlights, as streetlights weren't needed in these parts. To make it worse, the moon had decided it's going to take refuge behind large, black storm clouds for the night.

Valerie looks into her side-view mirrors every so often to see nothing behind her but blackness. It sent chills throughout her frame, but she didn't mention it to Celine. Her friend was never the sympathetic type, and would probably just taunt Valerie for the way she felt.

"I hope we make it to the club before the rain starts," Celine says, her eyes up on the clouds above them, "I don't want my makeup ruined_ before _we arrive."

"I wish you would have told me it was going to rain," Valerie scoffs, "because I wouldn't be on this road right now if you had."

"Well, maybe if you would have paid a little more attention to the weather than to that stupid news report, you would have known," Celine retorts.

After what seemed like ages, the town finally comes into the view. It completely stands out against the darkness and the fog, with its bright lights, night clubs and restaurants. Music is heard in the distance, and as the girls get closer, one song turns into many, each coming from different buildings. As joyous as the atmosphere is here, there was something that still felt wrong down in the pit of Valerie's gut.

"I am so happy a place like this is so close to us," says Celine as she approaches one of the more reserved night clubs. Purple and red fluorescent lighting lines the poor excuse for a door, filtering an eerie-colored glow onto the girls' paint and the cobblestone road around them, "You would never guess this is located in the middle of hundreds of farms and millions of trees!"

Valerie, however, wasn't so excited. She follows Celine as they approach the bouncer. He shoots Celine a smirk and immediately lets her and Valerie inside.

The club is a decent size for such a vacant area of France. The theme of lights matched that of the fluorescents outside: Red and purple that washes eerily throughout the place, leaving the corners and the edge of the dance floor immersed in darkness.

"I cannot believe you dragged me here _again_ during this pregnancy," Valerie sneers, her voice now raised over the loud thumping of the bass and the stinging vibrations of the keyboard. Celine doesn't respond, attention already on a man at the pub. She bats her eyelids at him seductively, trying to get him to roll over to them.

And she succeeds. The man snatches her glance and then stands on his suspension. He staggers forward, a large grin stretching across his bumper, "Well, couldn't help but notice you over here, little lady."

Celine giggles and then leans into him, raising her rear up so it's visible in the man's side-view mirror. She feels his frame tense up as she gently runs her treads over his fender-line, "Wanna' daaaaaance?"

The man's grin widens, his eyes grazing down every part of her but her face, "After I buy you a few drinks, hm?"

Valerie's eyelids narrow and she forces herself between their intimacy, "No, Celine. You came here with me, you're sticking with me. Got it?"

"God _dammit_, Val," Celine ripostes with a snap, "Go find yourself someone to talk to. I'm not letting you get in the way of my fun tonight. It's the only night I get to spend outside my_ boring_ house."

"_Fine_, then," Valerie growls, "Go have your _fun._" She revs up, but her engine automatically cuts on its own for the safety of her baby. The man chuckles in Valerie's direction as he begins escorting Celine over to the pub, "Shouldn't you be home tending to your man?"

Valerie tries to ignore his vulgar remark, but it still hits her like a lead pipe. She grits her teeth angrily, already fed up with Celine's antics. She re-starts her engine and storms off to one of the dark corners of the club. The obscurity helps her cool off, and she's able to see Celine from here, watching her as she parks at the pub with the stranger.

"What a delightful friend you are, Celine," Valerie says to herself through clenched teeth, "Forcing me here with you and then deserting me as usual. I don't even know why I agree to do these things with you anymore." She stamps one of her wheels, thinking about how she should just leave Celine to do as she pleases, and how she should never speak to her again, but what kind of car would that make Valerie? She would only be stooping down to Celine's level, and plus, what if something wound up happening to Celine? Valerie knew she wouldn't be able to live with the regret, as much of a bitch Celine is.

The unpleasant thoughts start to cause Valerie's rpms to shoot up again, and she feels her body heating up. She takes deep breaths and focuses on her baby now. She feels him kick at her and her eyes widen up, a smile instantly pushing away her livid scowl.

"Well, hello there, Eliot," she speaks to the unborn child, her voice calm now. Her surroundings dissipate, so focused on the little one's kicking, "Are you angry with Celine too?"

He kicks in response to her voice and she purrs to him in return, "I love you so much, you know. I won't let anything happen to you, no matter how angry Celine makes me, okay? You are much more important to me than she is."

A voice speaks up from Valerie's side. It's calm, but it startles her, "Is everything alright over here?"

Valerie jolts and looks at the stranger, "My! Do not sneak up on me like that! I didn't even hear you roll over here.." She sighs heavily and readjusts her stance. She tries to get a good look at the man at her side, but it was difficult in this darkness. From what she could see, he is a sedan with sharp body lines and light-colored paint. She turns away from him now, in disgust, "I am not here to hook up with anyone."

The man is taken aback. He gasps, "Oh, no! Neither am I. I just noticed your condition. You must be in your third trimester, yes? What on Earth are you doing in a nightclub?"

"What, are you some kind of doctor?" she grumbles, still not giving him any sort of eye contact.

"Actually, yes," he responds, "A surgeon if you want to be more precise. My name is Christophe, what is yours?"

The name shoots a pinch of alarm through her entire frame and her pupils constrict, "Christophe?" She finally turns to face him, "You work at Saint Pont hospital?"

Christophe raises a lid, "How did you know that?"

"Y-you were on the news…missing..," Valerie shifts into reverse, "Your intern..Adolphe, too..right?"

He chuckles and shakes his hood, "Oh, no, no…everything is alright now. The police made a mistake. I left the morgue before Adolphe. I had gone home, too exhausted to go all the way back to the hospital just to clock out."

Valerie shifts back into neutral, her idle dropping back down to normal, "I see.."

"I am glad you noticed though," Christophe says, nudging her in a friendly manner, "If I were actually to have gone missing, it shows that at least someone cares."

"Y-yeah..," Valerie responds. She feels slight uneasiness in the way Christophe acts; So peaceful for someone who just lost his intern in such a gruesome way. She swallows and takes a deep breath, "Sometimes I care too much." She glances back over to where Celine is, raising a lid when she only sees the man at the pub. Another drink is placed in Celine's spot, the man having already ordered another for her.

"What do you mean?" Christophe asks. He looks over toward the pub, only because he sees Valerie looking in that general direction.

"My friend, quote-unquote, dragged me here," Valerie turns back to Christophe and begins to explain, "Now she's deserted me to go and have a little romance with a stranger."

Christophe's jaw drops, "I think that stranger just slipped something in her drink."

"What?"

Valerie immediately stands up, "Excuse me, Christophe," and rolls over to the pub, just as Celine exits the bathroom and drunkenly wobbles to meet her.

The man shoots Valerie a glare, "You still here, huh?"

"Yep, and Celine and I will be leaving now," Valerie growls at him, grabbing onto Celine's wheel, "Let's go, Celine. I think you've had enough fun, don't you?"

"Whaaaadda' ya' meeean?" Celine slurs, roughly pushing away at Valerie's grasp, "I ain't leaving til I get my daaaaance."

The man chuckles, eyelids narrowing in Valerie's direction as he speaks to Celine, "Have your last drink and then we can dance."

"Celine, I _watched_ him put something in your drink," Valerie argues, even though she wasn't actually the one who saw it. Her voice has dropped from angry and to concerned.

"Huh?" Celine turns to the man, "You WHAT?"

The man suddenly stands tall and revs loudly, right in Valerie's face, sending massive vibrations through the floor tiles underneath the girls' tires. With a sharp clink a knife shifts out from his rim, "You think I need to do something like that to get any pussy? Bitch was gonna' get a good fuck anyway."

"_Fuck_ you!" Celine snarls, "_Cow._"

"C-Celine, stop it," Valerie pulls her in the direction of the exit, "He's got a knife."

"Whatever! He should know what _shit_ he is!" she screams, the alcohol bringing out the anger in her, "And he should know how much he'd be missing out on if I were fuckin' passed _out!_"

The man flashes his knife threateningly, "Best get outta' here now, before I send both of ya' home with scars."

At that Celine shuts up. She shoots the man one more glare before allowing Valerie to drag her outside. They slowly drive towards home, but Celine collapses after just a few minutes, vomiting every last drink she had onto the grass. Valerie idles at her side, stroking her roof-line, "It's okay.."

"N-no it's not," Celine whimpers, wiping tears away. Her throat stings and she spits, "I-I ruined the night. I betrayed you. I am a terrible friend. I-I can't believe how much you care..even after all that. T-thank you."

"Truthfully, I wasn't the one who saw him do it."

"Then who?"

Just then, a pair of headlights wash over the girls. Christophe approaches them, his expression stained with worry, "You two alright? I saw what happened."

Valerie smiles and pulls Christophe into a hug, "Thank you. I would have never saw that if it weren't for you."

Celine raises a lid curiously, never seeing this man before, but she feels safer knowing that Valerie at least knows who he is.

"You girls are in no shape to drive home like this," Christophe mentions, "I have a truck who can take you home. I insist."

"Oh, thank you!" Valerie smiles. She pecks him on the fender, "You're a life-saver, you know.."

"It's what I do," Christophe nods. He turns away and his tail lights lead them toward the rear of the club, "My truck is parked back here."

Valerie stands with Celine and they both follow him without hesitation. The truck sits in complete seclusion, facing the brick wall of the back of the club. The only light source washes over his trailer, painting him in an peculiar, dim yellow glow. His mirrors creak as they perk up, hearing tires behind him, "Ah, Chris, you've returned so quickly."

"I have two lovely women here that need a ride home. You don't mind?" Chris asks.

The truck chuckles and tilts his mirror to see the girls. His voice is deep and had a grungy rasp to it, "You do not lie when you consider them lovely."

"I will take that as a yes," Christophe responds. He rolls to the rear of the trailer and unlocks it, sliding it open with a loud screech, revealing blackness. Christophe turns to the girls, "Use your headlights." He lets the ramp down and, with Valerie in front, both girls roll up and inside, "I will be right behind you."

There is a slam and they are both encased in the dark of the trailer, hearing the door being locked behind them. The truck starts his engine seconds after Christophe locks them in, and he starts reversing in a hurry.

Valerie's headlights flick on, revealing an empty trailer. She looks back at Celine in her mirror, "You didn't give him our address, did you?"

"No, Val. I figured you had, because he seems to know where he's going."

"I didn't tell him, Celine," Valerie admits. She taps a front tire, nervous now. She starts to feel that same dark, uncanny feeling in her gut that she felt on the way to the club, "Maybe we should have them stop, just to make sure?"

"Oh, come on, Val. I am sure they know we're from Le Bonnet. There is no other town close by," Celine mentions. The truck hits a large bump as he enters the dirt roads, knocking the girls around a bit, "Eh, ow.."

Valerie brings a wheel up to the wall of the trailer, holding herself in place as best she can. Her voice jerks around with the amount of bumps in the road, "I do not recall this many bumps on the way in.."

"I am sure they would ask us where to go if they didn't know," Celine grumbles, "Quit being so paranoid, Val."

Valerie doesn't respond. Celine is dumb as a doorknob when it comes to most things, but she was always right about one thing, and it was how paranoid Valerie could get. Suddenly the truck makes a sharp left, throwing Celine and Valerie into the wall. The road seems to get rougher, the trailer jerking around now like a chicken about to get its head chopped off.

Valerie groans, holding herself so that her belly doesn't hit the bottom of the trailer, "We can't be that far off now."

There is a squealing of old brakes and the truck halts, idling loudly until his engine cuts. Tires are heard rolling through the dirt, and the trailer door is swung open. Celine feels drops of water hitting her trunk and she gasps a bit, "Rain."

"Christophe, are we here?" Valerie calls from in front of Celine. It is hard to see him from where she is at.

Christophe does answer, but the new coldness in his voice sends horrifying chills up Valerie's body panels, "Oh, we're here alright. But here isn't so much your home."

Her eyes widen up, in desperation to see behind her, but Celine completely blocks out her view of him. There is a blood-curdling squeal and Valerie feels Celine's weight exit the trailer.

"VALERIE!" Celine screams. There's a thud and then silence.

Valerie can feel her rpms heighten and her heart rate pounding against her undercarriage. She gulps and digs her tires into the floor of the trailer, ready to shift into reverse and run as quickly as she possibly can. She hears Christophe snigger behind her and she holds her breath.

"C'mon, Val. Come join your, quote un-quote, friend and I out here," Christophe mocks.

Valerie closes her eyes and slams into reverse, tires squealing as she flies backwards and down the ramp. She skids in the wet mud and loses a bit of control, revving herself up as she tries to find grip. She shifts and revs, tires spinning, and she feels her body propel itself in the opposite direction of the truck. Opening her eyes now, she sees nothing around her but unkempt trees. She revs higher and higher as she runs, until her engine cuts itself. She gasps in absolute fear, "Not now!" She tries desperately to re-start her engine, but it wouldn't turn, for her child's sake.

She slowly coasts to a stop beside a tree, gasping for air. Her eyes are huge and her pupils constricted, praying that her engine would cool quickly and she'd be able to start and run before Christophe finds her, "C-come on, come on," she whispers, "W-we're both going to die if you don't let me get out of here-"

There is another thud and Valerie is sent to the ground, chin hitting the mud, spraying it up and all over her front end, covering her headlights. She murmurs to herself as the pain breaks out and starts running through her body, like electricity, "A-AaAAahh.."

She hears mumbling from what seems like it is behind her, but she can't pinpoint exactly where it is coming from. Soon, all of her senses start to go out, like a black out during a storm, and she can hear nothing but the intense throbs of her heart beat against her underside.


	4. Part 4

Darkness. There is nothing but darkness as Valerie struggles to open her eyes, a painful groan escaping her lips. She hears nothing but her own staggered breathing and the occasional echo of water as it drips from an unknown source. She coughs and spits, the vile taste of dirt and blood behind her swollen lips. She starts to feel a throb in her roof as her senses come back to her, and it jolts her into reality. She immediately tries to start her engine, but there is no spark. She gasps, the vibrations of her voice resonating the empty room until they are engulfed by the dreadful silence.

Then the water drips.

Valerie cringes and tries to focus on the room around her, but as much as her eyes struggled to settle, more dark would filter in. She sobs where she is parked, and she can feel the oil in the pit of her oil pan grow colder. Her frame trembles.

"CELINE!" She cries, her voice raw with desperation.

No one responds.

"C-Celine..," she collapses in her spot. Broken tiles shift beneath her body, "Celine, please.."

A single light flickers on, and the silence is hushed by the buzzing of the light bulb. Valerie squints and blindly shrinks back. An engine starts up in front of her, its idle thick with some age. The tiles squeal and crunch as Christophe rolls into the room.

The one bulb didn't serve its purpose, three-quarters of the room still swathed in anonymity. This did the room a favor. The plaster had long ago started crumbling away, exposing everything underneath, and what is left of the wooden beams has just yet to decay. The only window is forever stained with grime, located up against the ceiling and way out of reach. This is no house that he dragged her in. It is some unknown facility, obviously abandoned some time ago.

Valerie locks eye contact with Christophe and an unnatural grin stretches out across his oxidizing bumper. He chuckles and slowly rolls farther into the bit of light. Splatters of fresh blood are sprayed across his fender and parts of his hood. The sight throws Valerie into a state of panic. She backs away as much as she can, her rear shaping into the collapsing plaster.

Christophe halts a car length from her, his voice now deep and raspy, "A shame. A wonderful man you have left behind."

Valerie's rugged breathing increases, "I didn't leave him. You..you took me from him… His family. Don't you see what you're doing?"

He shifts into first gear and turns his side to face her a bit, breaking the eye contact between them, "You see, Valerie…if you weren't such a stupid girl you'd be home with him right now. Leaning against him. Loving him. Awaiting your unborn child." His eyes dart over to her most visible door and he stops in his place. Valerie mumbles to herself, and she feels tears swell up at the corners of her windshield. Christophe takes a deep breath and continues, "If you didn't care so much more for that slutty friend of yours, your family would have what it deserves. It would have you. Right now."

A shimmer near the bottom of Christophe's door catches Valerie's eye. She tries to make out what it is that is reflecting the light, but it is hard to see from where he is standing.

"LOOK AT ME," Christophe snarls, catching Valerie off guard. She cringes back when he gets in her face. Heat radiates from his grille, wafting up and around her front end. She forces herself to look at his twisted eyes. The smell of the blood makes her feel light and she wobbles in her place, realizing it had to be no other than Celine's.

He brings a tire down and gently places it under her bumper. He strokes his treads along the dent that he caused when he knocked her face into the mud. He cracks another smile, pleased with what he's done, "Tisk, tisk. I appear to have ruined such a perfect face, but no matter. I do not favor a perfect woman. Dings and dents are...," he brings his treads up and along her fender now, "…much more attractive in my eyes."

His touch solidifies her, and the more he strokes the more she can feel the agonizing thump of her heartbeat at the back of her roof. She breathes roughly through her grille, finally gaining the courage to interrupt him. She growls through her teeth, "What did you do to Celine? Where is she?"

Christophe releases her and laughs, reversing away a bit, "Let's just say she had her fun," he tilts his body a bit, showing off the shimmer at the bottom of his door: light blue marks scraped into his paint. It's Celine's blue paint marks. Valerie gasps and starts to panic again, but Christophe raises his voice above her, "Unfortunately, I can only tell you what I did to her. What the doctor did, however… I've not a clue."

"D-doctor?" Valerie stammers between her jagged pants and her tears, "Y-you're insane. Please let us go…We have nothing for you…absolutely nothing."

He throws himself forward, roughly hooking his wheel right under her chin. He tugs her face close to his, narrowing his eyelids into a congealing glare, "I am afraid I can't do that." Valerie stiffens up and squeals as the warmth of his rotting breath traces her grille. She says nothing more, her eyes wide in fear and focused on the psychopath in front of her. Her axles begin to tremble as he brings a wheel back up to her fender, "Nervous yet, Val? Hm?"

She loses it by the time he strokes toward the end of her door and she kicks out at him, hitting him with enough force to send him stumbling back a few feet. She jumps away from the corner of the room and frantically struggles to start her engine again.

Still no spark.

Christophe doesn't take his time for granted. He regains his posture quickly, that crooked smirk completely wiped off of his face. Standing tall on his wheels, he rounds the light stand and grabs her by the bottom of her front bumper, "You think that was funny, sweetheart?"

She screams and tries kicking at him again, but this time he avoids it. He forcefully tugs her toward him and then throws her forward at the wall. The plaster cracks, crumbling down onto her like a jagged waterfall. Valerie, on her side now, groans painfully. She tries to focus on where he's at, but her vision is blocked by her own front-end.

"All I ask for is to spend a little time with you tonight, and you fuck me over, yet again," his voice seems to be coming from behind her. She looks around for him, anxiously trying to jerk herself back onto her wheels. Suddenly she sees him come into view in front of her. She yelps, choking on the air she's breathed in. He looks down at her eyes disappointedly, "I cannot believe you."

Valerie hardly lets him finish his sentence. She screams again, desperate for help, "SOMEBODY! FUCKING HELP! HE'S FUCKING INSA-!"

He slams her across the face, sending her into the plaster again. More of it crumbles and falls onto her door, the pieces rising and falling with her heavy panting. Her vision blurs and all of her senses start to fail. He doesn't allow her to regain herself. He quickly grabs her front bumper again and repeatedly slams her face into the wall, stopping only when he sees her blood stain the plaster, "That's right, woman. Submit."

Her panting staggers with the increased pain. She tries to bring her eyes to him, but the beating drained all of her energy. Instead she lays there, wheels limp. Holding her in place he mounts her side, sure to keep all of his weight on her. He glares at her in her mirror and revs loudly. She cringes and tries to say something, but only an inaudible squeak escapes her lips. Christophe sneers, excited by the dominance. He pushes her front-end into the wall even more, making it harder for her to see, "You're mine."

"G-Get off!"

He softly runs his treads down her doors, bringing them right up and over where her baby is growing, "What beauty," he huffs, his breath hot against her metal. He brings his lips right behind her side-view mirror, whispering, "The female body is just astounding, isn't it?".

Valerie musters up some energy and her shrieks fill the room, but Christophe soon muffles them, roughly pressing his treads up against her mouth. That didn't keep her down. She desperately starts kicking him, eventually finding a sweet spot. She nails him right in the gut, sending him backward, and he doesn't let go of her until he loses his balance. This pulls her back onto her wheels.

Using the power of adrenaline, Valerie propels herself forward. She ignores her dizzy vision and limps into the hall as fast as she can. By now Christophe has recuperated. He revs furiously and darts after her, skidding to a halt when he sees she is nowhere in sight. On his left are four rooms directly beside each other, all the doors closed. He cracks a grin and leisurely rolls forward, "OoooOoohhh, Vaaalleeeerriiiieee. I knooow where you arrreee."

Valerie winces, hearing his wheels slowly crunch at the decrepit tiles, becoming louder and louder as he nears, but her wits keep her silent. She backs away into the dark corner of the room, covering her mouth. The taste of her own blood mixed with her saliva is pungent.

There is a loud slam as Christophe smashes the first door in. He looks over the room quickly before moving on to the next one. He slams that one in. With each slam Valerie flinches, tears trickling down her hood.

"Just you wait until I find you, sweetheart," he teases, "We can continue where we left off."

He slams the third door in, his smirk widening as the dim light of the hall filters in and over her body, "There you are, my dear." He rolls into the room and closes the door behind him. By now Valerie has already started screaming for help, pawing at the exposed beams in the walls. Christophe just chuckles at her, "Why are you screaming? You can't be in that much pain. We haven't even had any sex yet." He flips the light switch and the room is filtered in eerie, greenish fluorescent lighting. The floor is covered in the same broken tiles, and there are no windows. It seems to have once been an operating room, for there are a couple of derelict operating tables pushed off to the side, sloppily positioned beside each other. There is a heart rate monitor alongside them, and a crooked television barely hanging off of the beam in the wall, both items which haven't been used in decades.

Christophe completely ignores the surroundings. He continues to roll closer to her, but then something changes in his eyes. The twist of green in his iris shrinks back behind his pupils and disappears, leaving nothing but his natural blue. He lowers on his suspension, his threatening posture dissipating. He gasps, his voice new and soft, "Oh, my! Your water's broke.."

A puddle of water had indeed formed under Valerie, but it had not come from her. It was already there prior to her presence, a leak from a small hole in the wall behind her.

"No wonder you're screaming so much. You're having contractions," the Peugeot says. He quickly snatches an operating table and drags it into the center of the room, barricading the exit with it.

Valerie's pupils constrict at the sight, "No. No, no! I am not having contractions!"

She tries to dart for the door, but he gets right in her face, grabbing her and pulling her toward the table, "It is okay, honey. I am the doctor now."

Weakening now, she falls limp in his grasp. Her breathing becomes short and staggered, eyeing the table with unbearable fear, "I-I am not in labor, and y-you are not a doctor. You're insane."

He ignores her remark and gets her onto the table with little struggle, using the leather straps to lock her front axles to the steel bars underneath it. The Peugeot rolls behind her once she is confined, and when he is out of her sight, she begins feebly tugging at the straps. They barely budge, however the old leather splits to expose steel wires beneath it. These straps were intentionally made to keep pain-stricken patients from escaping the table. Valerie's engine drops. She hears tinkering of metal behind her, stealing her focus from the straps. She glances in her side-view mirror to try and see what he's doing, but all she can focus on is his tail lights. He isn't facing her.

"Y-you're not a doctor," she repeats shallowly, all hope lost. She thinks about her husband at home, most likely worried sick about her. The thought forces out more tears, "Y-you're multiple psychopaths."

Christophe finally turns towards her rear. He's wielding a metal tool of some sort, the end of it forked like salad tongs. Valerie thrashes with the ounce of energy she has left, "FUCK YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Oh, that's right! I forgot. My apologies, Valerie," he turns away again, slipping a surgical mask over his mouth and his grille. He turns back to her, voice muffled behind the fabric, "I am usually very professional. I don't know what has gotten into me lately."

Valerie collapses against the table. She and her baby were as good as dead. Suddenly she feels the intense cold of the tool enter her. She jolts and whimpers. Christophe pulls the tool back, "Now, now, Valerie. If you continue to jump like that I won't be able to check your dilation."

She pants like a dog as she feels him move the tool around again, and she braces herself for pain. Instead, he just removes the tool from her, "You're not dilated at all. You've had a false labor." He rolls around to her front, "False labors are…incredibly dangerous. I do recommend we do a Cesarean section."

"Y-you've got to be joking," she squeaks, "W-why? Why are you doing this to me!?"

Christophe remains completely calm, despite Valerie's pleading. He sighs and stands professionally, "Well, I think it may be the best route as of now. False labor is nothing to mess with. If we do not do the C-section, it can result in still birth."

"You're a fucking psycho..," she sulks, "…let me go.."

Christophe shakes his hood, disapproving of her reaction. He rolls back over to the tools, tossing a few clamps, retractors, and scalpels onto the table. Valerie watches him through the weakened slit in her eyelids. He rolls in front of her once he finishes tossing the tools, lifting her chin so she looks at him, "Say goodnight."

The sharp pain of a needle stings her fender and her body becomes very lifeless very quickly. Her words slur and her vision cuts out, "D-don't…hurt Eliioooot.."

The last thing she hears before the darkness sets in is the familiar sound of Christophe's chuckling, "Oh, he'll be in excellent care."

A stinging pain in her lower abdomen jolts Valerie back into consciousness. She groans hoarsely, the room around her still dark, "Eliot.." As some time passes, the muffled sound of male voices and sirens erupt all around her. She blinks a few times and her eyes begin to focus. The darkness gets lighter and lighter, and she soon sees that she is inside an ambulance. Her hearing clears and she brings a tire to her belly. She whimpers and fidgets groggily, not because of the staples she felt holding her stomach together, but because of the intense feeling of emptiness. She instantly knew her baby wasn't inside of her anymore.

"Oh, oh, she's awake," says one of the voices. It was the ambulance, talking to a police car who is driving beside him. He is speaking through a microphone, to make it possible for Valerie to hear him on the inside of the box, "We are almost to the hospital, dear. Just try and keep your calm."

She listens to his words, but it doesn't bring her comfort. Despite her wound, she didn't want to see or hear anything having to do with hospitals or doctors. She starts crying, hugging her belly with her rear wheels, "My baaaaaby."

"What is she saying?" the cop asks.

"I don't know. I can't understand her," the ambulance responds.

Minutes later they pull up outside of the hospital and nurses get her onto a stretcher. Her vision is still blurred, but from what she could tell, the lobby had flickering lights and rotating doors that are clearly out of order, caution tape wrapped around them. She tries to get a better look at a strange car who was sitting in front of the broken doors, but it was hard to tell. A maintenance man, maybe?

A nurse starts wheeling Valerie past the lobby and towards the E.R., noticing her consciousness beginning to slip away again. Valerie's perception remains raw, but at the new angle of the stretcher she is able to see the strange car better. Her engine drops, and seconds before losing consciousness she could have sworn the car had the exact shape of a Peugeot 406, a cigarette suspended from the corner of his lips, rocking a baby carriage at his side.


End file.
